


Citrus Summer

by lee_donghyuck



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Kissing, Making Out, Poetry, Romance, Summer Love, also the way oranges taste like flowers and sunshine, help i love him, that eternal feeling when you embrace the love of your life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 21:42:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26185876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lee_donghyuck/pseuds/lee_donghyuck
Summary: When his breath fans over your lips, you catch the scent of it. When his fingertips dance across your skin, you feel the zest of it. When he nibbles at your neck, you taste the tang of it. Donghyuck tastes like nostalgia, like citrus on a summer’s day.
Relationships: Lee Donghyuck | Haechan & Reader, Lee Donghyuck | Haechan/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	Citrus Summer

Each kiss is a memory recalled.  
Each touch is a promise to return.  
This he tells you, yet not by word.

A warm summer breeze floats through the white lace curtains of your living room, the flowing fabric moving like water on the wind. Light ventures past the window panes, dancing in shimmers on hardwood floors and the forms of you and yours.

Floating through daydreams, Donghyuck sprawls across the hardwood, legs thrown askew and arms nestling his head to catch the reaching summer rays. Perched atop your palms, you admire his serenity from above. From his eyelashes tickling his cheeks, to the speckles flickering across his warm skin in the light, to the golden beams of sun running down his jaw to his neck, your eyes trace the features you’ve so grown to love. A smile pulls at your lips as you take in his relaxed form and think to yourself how blissful it must feel to be so unknowingly ethereal.

With an absentminded appetite for something refreshing on the mind, you run your fingers along the floorboards to meet the cool ceramic collecting fruit before clasping one in your grasp. Between your palms you idly roll an orange and consider that between the fruit and the man beneath you, there lies a clear notion of which is more pleasant to the taste.

Your fingers break the peel as your gaze returns to him, the view enhanced by the spritz of citrus visibly floating in the sunlight. His eyes open languidly as if waking from a slumber and a warm, lazy smile draws across his lips.

“Come here,” you murmur, gesturing with a slice. As he rises, the rustle of his clothes brings an air of fresh linen, swirling with the scent of citrus peel.

His arms reach for you, replacing the sun that graces your skin with his presence that is somehow warmer than those reaching rays or brighter than any beauty of nature. He moves around you, the true origin of your warmth, blanketing you in his comfortable, protective embrace. Simply and lovingly he holds you, covering you in his care, and just his presence alone feels like a devotion, proof of your bond nurtured over time.

His embrace is your sun, your strength.  
He is thermal, he is radiant.  
He’s the season within you.

Brushing softly down your arm, his hand closes gently around your wrist, urging your hand to his mouth. Pressing the orange slice to his lips, you hand feed him, one bite, then two. And even when his mouth closes around the final piece, he still chases your fingertips with his lips to deliver tiny little pecks to each print, chuckling softly and humming around his mouthful. His lips pout as he chews, his eyes sweet crescents, a silent communication of trust. With the excuse of savoring any stray sweetness, he licks your fingertips again, giggles bubbling in your chest. The tiniest playful spark in his eyes always sends your heart into palpitations, and you can’t help the heat rising to your face for every kiss he delivers.

The crinkle in his eyes, the curve of his lips, the curls in his hair. The flush on his ears, the speckles along his neck, the veins on his arms. They’re all a reminder.

Donghyuck feels like nostalgia.

He is both the comfort of home and the thrill of reckless adventure. Donghyuck’s kisses taste like the flavor of your memories, constantly rekindled as they flash before your eyes.

The moment you caught him watching you beneath golden summer skies, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, a spark of interest and curiosity. A warm summer wind sweeping his hair back, the sound of crickets, a trickling stream. The memory of him leading you by the hand through grassy fields beneath clear blue skies, bumblebees buzzing by in search of wildflower nectars. The memory of cotton blouses, cheeky grins, and summer swims. The moment he realized he was in love, recognition dawning across his features as he cupped your face close to his that night long ago. The devotions he murmured against your lips in the heat of passion, time and time again.

You see your reflection in his eyes as he watches you, and you drop your gaze unashamedly to study the curve of his lips, recollecting all of the words he’s spoken to you of love and laughter, sadness and doubts, affirmations and reassurances. Time and time again, building trust and admiration in the purest, most human of forms.

His hands roam your body, floating across skin, finally placing his palms on your cheeks once more, gently urging you forward. Leaning to meet you, he presses his warm lips to yours, releasing a soft voiced breath. Time and time again, you’re intoxicated by his allure, sending you into a trance that beckons you deeper into him, hanging on his every intent.

When his breath fans over your lips, you catch the scent of it.   
When his fingertips dance across your skin, you feel the zest of it.   
When he nibbles at your neck, you taste the tang of it.   
When he licks into your mouth, you savor the robust nature of it.

It’s the welcome familiarity, and all of the flavor that he brings.  
Sour, tart, and bitter, soothed by the contrast of his sweet disposition.

The strength of his hold is the security of rinds.  
The sound of him is as sweet and heady as nectar.  
The pulse of him is as rapid as the sugar rushing in your veins.

Each kiss is a memory recalled.  
Each touch is a promise to return.  
This he tells you, but not by word.

Yet, with certainty you know  
He is sunlight, he is brightness.  
He is citrus on a summer’s day.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading <3\. This was my first time trying poetry - it was pretty enjoyable!! Let me know what you think! Feedback welcome. : )
> 
> Crossposted from [ d-nghy-ck.tumblr.com ].


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